LxLight
by Flagfish
Summary: This intricate and erotic story begins following Light's release from captivity and draws deliberately on suggestive ideas implied by emotional conflict in the original plot. Later parts include Mello and Near. I've eliminated Misa.
1. Chapter 1

Even after they had punched each other and wrestled off-balance, L shows no reluctance to speak bluntly again.

He never did. It was infuriating.

"Oh, you're Kira," he says, big eyes staring at Light casually, "I'm absolutely sure."

But, as always, it doesn't seem to move him emotionally. He continues staring ahead, entirely disinterested in how tired Light is of being accused.

He doesn't bother protesting; it's useless.

There's a metal chain connecting them by the wrist. It was Light's idea. Or rather, submitting himself to captivity and surveillance was his idea--apparently. Apparently, because he doesn't seem to remember exactly what had gone on prior to the surveillance that compelled him to suggest this. But one thing was for sure - he had been under a thorough enough inspection under L's big, scrutinizing eyes for everyone to understand how ridiculous it is to accuse him.

But it seemed something wasn't quite right. Someone was seeing something he didn't. Because they didn't merely take him into observation; they kept him there. For days. Weeks. Nearly a month had passed before they decided to let him out; he really didn't see this coming.

He had begged, he had tried so sincerely to reason with L, because it was ridiculous to assume that he, that Light, was Kira. Light would have remembered killing so many people! But no matter how much he pleaded and how many times he swore and promised that he was innocent, L was not convinced.

When he was finally released, it was not complete release; even though he was no longer held in captivity, he was still under perpetual surveillance by L. He was bound to him at all times--by a metal chain connecting them wrist to wrist.

It would not be so unbearable if not for the blatant distrust. Unsubstantiated distrust, no less. Really, Light didn't deserve this. He had never done anything wrong. He was a top student, intelligent and hard-working, and had even contributed his time and effort to help solve cases at the police station--while still a high school student. It was an insult to suggest that someone so passionately devoted to working hard for the benefit of his community would be responsible for the murdering hundreds.

But L didn't merely suggest it; he tormented him for it.

It wouldn't be so bad if those big eyes didn't stare at him like that--unblinking, accusing, and maddeningly silent. L could sit and stare at him for hours.

Light turns his head back, sighing to himself.

"How are you doing it," L murmurs, tilting his head toward Light, "people are dying again while you're here being watched."

Light groans. "It means I'm not doing it."

"No," L replies, "I'm almost completely sure you are."

He tilts Light's face toward his with an extended index finger, and now the big eyes are scanning Light's face in pretense of reading his mind.

"It must mean you must have done this ahead of time. You had details of these people before you were imprisoned and somehow planned their death earlier on."

Light gasps in surprise; he didn't expect to hear such a strange idea.

"But then," L continues, finger running down the side of Light's neck, seeming deep in thought, "why would you refrain from scheduling deaths for the first two weeks you were in captivity?"

"...because I'm not Kira..."

L shakes his head, "No. You must have wanted us to suspect you. But why? perhaps to take attention away from something else that was going on?"

Now his finger is brushing down the line of Light's collarbone, and L scrapes the pale digit back up, grasping Light's chin in his hand and staring at him like a deer in headlights.

"It's only a matter of time, Kira, before I find out how you're doing it."

His lips are moving, but the rest of his face isn't.

And then the long, slender digits are pushing past Light's mouth and in-between his lips, and all Light can do is watch them go in with the same exhaustion that he has watched L's distrustful gazes and listened to his threatening accusations for the past several weeks.

The fingers slide back out and run slowly against Light's chin, tugging downward at the edge of his lips in a wet trail, and L mumbles, "Say you got this information early somehow. About these people who died this week."

L's entire being is his eyes. They continue to stare, unblinking, as his white face moves closer, and bony limbs move with the quiet clink of a metal chain, "and before you submitted yourself to captivity, you wrote this information down someplace."

for some reason that Light, himself, does not understand, these words make his heart skip a beat. L is moving closer, crawling on the sofa with the chain dragging at his side, "if you wrote these things down, then it should be possible to find them."

He pauses as he reaches Light. Lost in introspection, L looks down at him--at his exhausted features, his intelligent eyes, the exposed sliver of skin where his neck meets his shoulder. L lowers his head and Light can feel the hot insistence of his tongue tracing a moist line against him.

"Does it please you?" He hears himself murmur, and L does not reply. Big, dark eyes stare down at the wet skin beneath for a long time, and then he continues.

"It couldn't be that far away from here," he says speculatively, "because if my logic is right, you would have decided to do this the same day you submitted to investigation."

L's gaze rises form Light's neck to meet his eyes. "Because you made your choice on the spur of the moment. Because of the second Kira."

He draws closer and his lips are sliding against Light's as he speaks, "But it wasn't so you could save her."

Light isn't sure he's listening anymore. None of this makes sense. It has not made sense ever since they locked him up. He feels the other boy's breath against him, the gentle friction of moving tissue as the lips mouth, "Kira would plan to kill her too."

And cold metal slides against Light's arm as L's hand rises to the side of his face. He accepts passively, parting his lips for him, because he had lost his autonomy and right to privacy long ago.

"There was some reason why Kira wanted her alive," the lips hover against the delicate folds of Lights' ear, and there are soft strands of hair brushing against his neck, "something that not only kept you from killing her," and now Light has stopped listening entirely, because he seems to have lost control over his senses and was completely at L's mercy, "but that made you desperate to find a way to free her from us."

Light has lost it.

His hands grasp hard at L's wrists and he pulls him in with one solid jerk, smashing his mouth against the other boy's. He nearly forces him. No, he does force him. With the loud clinking of the snaking chain, he pushes L backward on the sofa, tilting his head backward as to expose the white neck, and he has at him with a desperate, tormented hunger.

The soft hiss of L's breath issues forth strained and sharp, and long digits are clawing at Light's back, pressing him closer, and Light has wanted him for a very long time, yes, he remembers that now, with determination hat obsessed him day and night.

For the life of him, he cannot remember or understand why he wanted him or where it all began, but there was a deep, unmistakable drive to conquer.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere in the background is the low hum of television monitors.

Outside, a helicopter passes some distance away.

And the quiet sound of breathing, innocent and human, against light's throat, curiously defenseless before him.

Defenseless – there is no such thing. Determination goes both ways, and it is with full awareness that L allows him at the bare skin of his neck. His big eyes bear an expectant familiarity with Light's restlessness, and this is entirely humbling to Light because it is something of which he, himself, was largely unaware.

No, this isn't defenselessness. It seems nearly calculated, and Light begins to wonder when L knew this will come. He also wonders what exactly it is that he can't quite remember. L's skin is soft and warm under his fingers, his gaze amused and permissive as he urges Light to go on, and his hand is on Light's under his shirt, pressing it to him.

Deliberately vulnerable, testing to see where this will go.

With full awareness, Light accepts. He watches his hands move against the white skin, upward along the hard protrusions of ribs and to the delicate clavicle, and when his fingers yank at the fabric to pull it away, L allows this.

Light does not understand why his hands pull away at the white shirt, or why his thighs are tight against the other boy's legs, and it dawns on him that it's so that L can't get up and run away, and that it's so he can ultimately defeat—

He releases his hold immediately with a sharp intake of breath.

_What was I thinking just now?_

L blinks quietly. "It's as I thought," his soft voice murmurs, "you simply don't remember."

Light is too stunned even to fight back or consider the dangerous implications of that statement. Terrified, he watches L gradually rise to a sitting position, shirt falling back down over flat stomach.

There is silence for a few minutes.

"This is very interesting," L says at last, "and the choice to forget must have been yours."

"Ryuuzaki," Light's voice wavers, "_I didn't do it_."

"No, you wouldn't remember doing it," L replies, "but how could we find out how you did it now that you forgot?"

And again he is deep in thought.

_It can't be_.

But Light is mortified. Despite his absolute certainty that he is not Kira, he cannot deny that he felt something foreign but eerily familiar just then. Something unmistakably wicked and fully deliberate that felt very much like a sensible memory.

He is helpless, strangely vulnerable and handicapped, and for the first time he begins to wonder whether there is any truth to L's accusations.

L is not paying attention to him; his dark eyes are rolled up in thought, and when he finally speaks, his words are less than comforting.

"You do realize, Light, that we will have to arrest you even if you don't remember."

"If I really am Kira," Light says, and there is a strange note of fascination in his voice, "then I should be arrested."

In a moment of surprise, Light realizes he is terrified to think an unknown part of himself had committed mass murder. He collapses against L's bent knees, confused and exhausted, and when white fingers brush back the hair that had fallen in his face, he hears himself murmur,

"_But I am righteous_."

L's eyebrows rise. He peers down at the boy in his lap and again tilts his chin upward.

"Ahh, there it is," he whispers with a mixture of fascination and satisfaction, and he inspects Light's face quietly.

L's fingers are gentle but strangely insistent as they curl around the edges of Light's collar, and the white hands pull hard, forcing Light to his knees before him.

There is no mercy here.

"Tell me more," he says quietly, and Light's eyes roll down to look at the hands pulling at his shirt. He is on the verge of tears. He is on the verge of panic.

But nevertheless, he hears himself reply, "and I will not be defeated, Ryuuzaki."

The dark eyes inspect Light's face for several moments before he replies.

"Is that so, Yagami-kun," and Light thinks he has never seen L this content.

When they kiss, it's Light who pushes L back onto the carpet, and even as he wonders what he is doing and why, he continues holding him down.

"Do you remember how you did it?" L asks, eyes fixed on the light fixture in the ceiling, and he can hear the fascination in Light's voice as he replies, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Wouldn't we both like to know," L's voice is soft as he replies, and it's with ease that he pushes Light on his back, his big eyes amused and challenging,

_Here I am. Defeat me._

He leans down and kisses Light. His slender fingers are strong and elegant, tight against Light's shoulders, and he feels the very same undeniable urge to conquer.

"Strange," he ponders out loud, "I can't remember the last time I've wanted something this much."

It should sound strange, Light thinks, but it doesn't.

"But indeed this is very exciting, wouldn't you say," L continues, "it's now undeniable that you're Kira."

And finally come the tears.

Light can feel them at the corners of his eyelids, hot and painful and distinctly marked with shame, and there is nothing he can do to control them as they pool and collapse into flattened streams against the skin of temples and down into his hair. His forehead furrows as he cries, and L holds his wrists back from brushing at his face.

"I still need to know how you did it," he mumbles as his thumb brushes against Light's cheek, and Light shakes his head weakly, whispering, "I don't know."

"I believe that," L replies, and it's not because of the wretched way that Light stares back at him, because L knows that Light is a good actor.

It isn't an act, but that doesn't matter. When L releases him, Light falls achingly into his arms, grasping the thin body with strange desperation, and he whispers,

"Ryuuzaki, there is something you need to know."

L looks down at the boy tightly grasping his abdomen.

"What's that?"

"It's more than just Kira doing it. This involves the supernatural."

Silence.

After several minutes comes L's quiet voice,

"I believe that, too."

And for the first time that afternoon, he feels afraid.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

L regards the other boy silently as his long fingers move systematically from one button to the next on Light's shirt.

"And this is something you remember," he asks, pulling the open shirt apart and over Light's shoulders.

Light thinks about this. He is still crying. No, he does not remember. It is entirely horrifying to him that what has gone on until now is not that he didn't do it, but rather that he _did not remember_.

Behind his bare shoulders, his shirt falls softly to the floor.

L is winning.

L is winning, but there is unmistakable reluctance trembling through those elegant fingers as they push Light back down to the floor, and through his defeat, Light realizes momentarily that L is afraid.

He does not try to hide it, and his fingers halt halfway through their journey to Light's chest, his mouth frozen where it was once about to form some long-forgotten remark.

_There is no way that this can be true_, L realizes he was going to say, but it must be.

They are both afraid.

There are traces of tears lining the thin skin stretching outward from Light's eyes, and through his helplessness and fear there is also at last a very dim sense of relief. There is almost no horror in the realization that L was right about there being a deliberate plan.

Very gently, Light pulls himself up by his elbows, and he watches his hands close around L's wrists.

No, L is not winning.

_I'm losing my mind_, Light thinks, bewildered by the realization that he has been thinking in terms of winning and losing and gradually becoming all the more aware that there is, in fact, something very strange at play.

He is stunned as it dawns on him that not only has he had some sort of experience he can no longer quite remember, but it is evident he has planned and accounted for a situation like this.

_He is somehow protected._

Protected against what? What exactly has he done?

His knees come down on either side of L's narrow waist and his hands lower the white wrists to the floor on both sides of his frame. The boy's face is expressionless when Light kisses him, and when Light means again to nudge gently at the white shirt, he finds himself tearing at it instead. He actually does rip it in half, and L is visibly frightened, because somewhere in his mind he knows that _Light is somehow protected_ and that _perhaps Light doesn't know_ but that _someone knows_ and Light could kill him, _Light could really kill him_.

Light grasps L's chin with steady fingers and has at him without shame. This time it really is vulnerability. This time it really is defenselessness. The boy's lips are soft and permissive and Light takes him with cruel deliberation, pressing him clear against the floor and biting hard at his neck.

"It hurts," comes forth the innocent cry, hushed and broken and laden with strange undertones of melancholy humility.

_I have wanted you_, Light thinks bitterly, and there is blood at his lips, and he actually thinks he feels muscles tighten against him in what will inevitably end as nothing more than a mere _attempt_ at escape, and he smiles against the white skin at his lips because beneath him is the great L in nothing less than glorious admission of defeat.

He could call them in at any moment, but he does not.

This is visible on camera, but there is no rescue mission.

Because somewhere, somehow, no matter how vague, there is the completely realistic knowledge that _someone knows_, L understands this now, _she knows and she will tell Light_.

The second Kira.

L was right all along.

This is simultaneously very satisfying and devastating to L, who lies deep in speculation beneath Light, and even as his left leg, long and narrow, is bent submissively over Light's shoulder, he mumbles thoughtfully,

"I rather like you, Yagami-kun."

And despite his initial surprise, Light understands. After all, Light was L's first friend.

"This might hurt," he hears himself warn awkwardly, and he almost wonders why he bothers.

And then he's in, his fingers grasping hard at the bony leg folded gracefully over him, lips stretched into a thin smile and hair hanging behind him as he tilts his head back, oblivious to the fact that beneath him, L is grinning in modest contentment, because he has won after all. L was right on all counts.

L allows him satisfaction to the conclusive end, when, wet and exhausted, the younger boy falls against him, at which point comes an abrupt pull on the metal chain so conveniently forgotten. Taken entirely off guard, Light gasps as L pulls him in.

Whether or not Light remembers how he did it, it doesn't matter now. If he kills L, he will kill L on camera. If he does not, then L will live to convey the information and arrest both Kiras.

Although he is still afraid, L has already won.

But before he delivers revenge, he cannot help but smile at Light, and when he kisses him, at last it is a gesture of simple affection.

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

His lips are smiling against Light's. The boy is exhausted, confused, uneasy, but captured steadily in place by the chain, and L thinks he might laugh in amusement as he kisses him.

It's over now, it's over, and L has won, and Light is Kira and that's a good start. For the first time that day, L's white arms come around Light in none other but innocent devotion.

He kisses Light, he kisses him time and again, on his lips, on his cheeks and his moist forehead under his hair, and his eyes that are dry now with brittle remains of tears, and he finally does laugh when he pulls Light into his arms, because it's very close to being over, now he just needs to figure out how Light did it.

They collapse to the floor mutually, and the chain is rigid against Light not as a device of dominance but merely a gentle reminder of control: _behave, shh, let go a moment_.

This isn't going to be bad, Light knows this, and within his mind he is a wretched conflict between cognitive righteousness and emotional vengeance, both secure in the strange knowledge that he is safe and relieved by the unspoken promise that Kira, _be it he or not_, will be put to justice at the mercy of a brilliant detective.

It's all very charming to L, who nevertheless remains unaffected by charm, and not for a moment does he consider granting Light any sort of excuse or benefit. And not for a moment does Light ask for one, not from his nemesis.

The fact that he has caught Kira is thrilling enough to L, but the fact that _he was ultimately right in all his deductions _makes it a hundred times more enjoyable. There is still the issue of finding how Light did it and what made him forget, as well as the unavoidable mention of the supernatural which makes L terribly uncomfortable, but even these were small details compared with what he found that day.

He rather likes Light. They are really very similar, and despite it all he simply admits that he's enjoyed working with him. Very soon, justice will prevail, and for the time being, through the fighting and the accusations they do enjoy each other's company, because they fight and accuse on a mutual level.

"Listen, Ryuuzaki," Light breathes against L's neck, his muscles tensing in a transient moment of clarity, "I..I really don't remember, but…"

His voice is inaudible, exhalation ghosting against the L's ear, and he tenses his eyes shut before his focus breaks, "..but there's someone who's going to help Kira, I mean, to help me, if I'm Kira, there's something…"

L's smile vanishes as he listens, his fingers slipping through Light's hair and pressing him closer to his ear. It's fascinating and nearly heartbreaking to witness the tremulous duality unravel within him as half of him seems to cling desperately to L. As if asking L to save him from himself. To save everyone from himself.

And then, trembling throughout, Light grasps L's face with both hands and stares into his eyes as though consumed by some momentary revelation for which he has no words, and, intrigued, L watches his mouth open in a desperate attempt to convey information. "_She can kill you, she can see your name, you have to tell her not to tell me, tell her I don't want that, it's the only way she won't_—"

And this is what it takes to melt L's heart.

His hands come rigidly on Light's against the floor, and dark strands of hair cascade around Light's face as L seizes him,

_Thank you_,

It comes unspoken but desperately real and it seems almost that revealing what it turns out he somehow knew has drained Light. He falls innocently into L's arms, and L gathers him with strength and deliberation, trembling as he brushes the hair from the boy's face,

_Thank you_.

L kisses the skin at the side of his neck, gentle and almost self-conscious, and he thinks he could fall in love, and as he trails the length of his neck he is glad this is over, he is so glad this is over, and he wonders if he'll ever again encounter a case nearly as interesting.

Light watches the smile forming on L's face, a smile beaming with gratitude and affection, and he braves his own sadness and wonders in astonishment if he really intended to kill this person, if he was really capable of thinking someone so innocent deserved it.

L is a precious creature, elegantly powerful and deceptively strong for someone so delicate. His mouth is warm on Light's skin, his hands tracing the protruding iliac crest at his hips and pulling downward at the denim, and there are soft strands of hair falling against the flat stomach below eliciting tremors and murmurs and one melancholy cry of despair from the viewing room across the hall, where, curiously moved and delicately brittle, Misa stands trembling before the iridescent glow of a television monitor.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

There are strong, thin hands holding Light's abdomen, touching but not touching, a means of control without violence but with irreversible, patient restraint.

"So she needs a name after all. But she knows it."

Silence.

"Light, do you remember?"

"I…" Light thinks. There are corners of cognition unnervingly shrouded in darkness, and only emotional memory remains. He props himself up by his elbows and looks back at L, whose head is leaning gently against Light's folded knee.

Light's hair has gone in his mouth, and he fishes for it as he thinks, "I have no idea," he mumbles around his fingers, "I just, that is, there was—" his brow furrows. "The—it—we both needed…" his voice trails to something like silence. _We?_ Was it really true?

He pulls himself up to a sitting position and stares at the carpet in deep thought, hand cupping his mouth.

_I've missed so much class_.

A bitter laugh escapes between the fingers at his mouth as he wonders what exactly he had known before and what exactly he had planned for himself before he forgot everything. They must have done something very serious.

But it couldn't be something malicious. He would have needed a reason.

Either way, he finds himself thinking, he must be very careful because L might know more about him than he, himself. He must have believed what Kira did was right. Because apparently, he had been Kira. But shouldn't it sit more right with him? Shouldn't he want to eliminate L instead of saving his life?

What is he thinking? What's the use in being careful now? He's not going back to university. He's not going anywhere.

L has grown lethargic and is leaning more closely against Light's knee, hand wrapped just around tibialis anterior and head leaning on the bent point.

"Take your time," he yawns, "you can't lose anything. I'm completely sure you're Kira."

Light nods slowly. "I think we both needed a face and a name."

"Then how—"

"but she can get the names. And I…can't?" It issues forth almost inquisitively, and Light's fingers stop at his chin as he pauses in fascination.

_She can get the names and I can't_.

It's what L figured out.

L is marvelously content. He thinks there's nothing in the world he would rather be doing right now than sitting right there, listening to Light verify the assorted details of L's conclusions. He'd been down for so long tormenting himself for the implication that he was wrong somewhere, and now that things are starting to make sense again in support of his reasoning, he feels both relieved and excited.

And afraid. What Light is telling him makes sense, but he can't remember everything. What was this about the supernatural?

L swallows hard.

"Light," he says, eyes staring directly at the other boy, "could you kill me right now?"

Light stares back speechlessly. Up to this point, he would fume in frustration at questions like this, about what he would do if theoretically he were Kira, or why he would do certain things unless he were Kira.

"_I could never do that_," the words issue forth strained and whispered and shrouded in agony, foreign even to Light, himself, and he doesn't understand himself at all.

He is brittle when his hand rises to L's cheek and brushes sorrowfully, and in a transient moment of understanding he murmurs, "but things will change, and before that happens, have us secured. Separate from one another. I can't tell you how, but she can kill you. So—"

L's hands are tight around Light's now and he's staring at him with vast amusement, the way a soldier stares at a dying comrade, Light thinks, and is isn't terribly far from reality.

"—tell her I said never to kill you."

L looks down at Light's fingers interlaced in his and inspects them slowly. Light watches as he draws them to his mouth and kisses the thin knuckles.

"And never let her speak to me after that," Light finishes.

He knows when L kisses him that he has wanted this badly, and he understands that this is because it's their last night together—so he holds on very tightly, hands locked possessively around L's neck the way a child holds on to an older sibling, and even though it really is love, very soon it won't matter anymore.

_To be continued…_


	6. Chapter 6

Light is only seventeen years old.

His soft cheeks and delicate chin glow with all the innocence of adolescence, and the terror in his eyes is evident even when he closes them—but at seventeen he is already responsible for mass murder.

This remains prominent and absolute in L's mind even as he allows Light to have at him and even as he acknowledges that yes, _it really is love_.

It was no accident; _Kira_ was a fully conscious and deliberate decision justified and insisted upon and risked for.

Light hasn't asked for pardon.

His fate is already decided. But there is nevertheless a curious affection between them, undeniable and regretfully real,

_It's L versus Kira_, and it still is L versus Kira on the office floor against the hard side of a dimly-lit desk. The metal chain is a strange reminder of a sentence far graver still to come, as well as a long-awaited separation that will leave them both feeling naked.

Since Light's release from the cell, the chain has rendered the two exasperatingly involved, perpetually aggravated and perpetually on the verge of a fight, and Light almost wishes he had realized he was Kira earlier that this were over sooner.

They had tested and deliberately tormented each other, liking neither the chain nor the undeniable curiosity it brought, and they had ever since exerted upon each other the various frustrations it created, fighting and touching and completely bent to eliminate.

Light thinks he has nearly gotten used to L's thin arms on him, the warm insistence of flesh and wet exhaustion that followed, if not for dominance then as a helpless cry of tormented despair.

When it happens now, it echoes painfully of separation, and he feels weak, infatuated, defeated not so much by the rival but by his own overpowering desire to save him.

_Take me, do it_.

Dark strands drape and sweep downward caudally along the naked abdomen, and for a moment L is all softness and warm regard, and, despite it all, grateful for one transient desire to save his life. And Light—yes—at seventeen _Light is innocent_, the perfect son has taken casually to murder as he has to leadership and achievement and anything else he could, with vast, calm amusement, turn and unravel in his mind. It was with both innocence and confidence that he first fell into Ryuuzaki's arms, and it's with the same casual curiosity that he urges him forth even as surrenders.

The thin membranes at his lips run dry with expiration, head tilted slightly back and hands urging downward, he cries for himself now, silently, for the last moments before everything changes. The slender hands at his Thighs press softly with a light, firm gentleness typical of Ryuuzaki, who understands that the person in his arms is really not the one who wants his life. Not for the time being.

Light's fingers curl against his reddening cheeks in modesty when the wetness of lips comes tentatively on him, with the human flicker of eyelashes and exhalation of warm vapor; in all their battles they haven't come this close to affection.

It might actually not hurt.

It doesn't hurt. It's good and steady and hot, a consoling manipulation that renders him vulnerable and curiously shy. L's fingers at his lips are softer now, pressing with humility he hasn't shown before, and, whimpering inaudibly, Light allows him in. Then everything is velvety wetness and warmth when the fingers at his lips pull downward and L's mouth is on his. Light's arms come around the bony shoulders in a final gesture of surrender when at last L takes him, and it feels almost like trust.

Light doesn't let go of the digits at his mouth, pressing with modest, silent desperation, so L allows him—he'll allow him more tonight than usual, because for all his defenses, he will at last grant Light an opportunity to feel the contentment of trust and acknowledgement. But no farther. The innocent creature in his arms will kill him.

"Don't," L whispers when, helplessly tormented, Light begins to murmur something about regret and sorrow and love, so the boy grows quiet with frail surrender and his arms grow tighter around L's back. There is silence, light and shadow and the fluidity of bones and muscle beneath white skin, the echoing of breath and the sway of hair, until, with the relentless grasp of fingers upon each other comes at last release, hot and real and liquid. They fall on each other, wet and messy and tightly entangled, and neither yet ready to let go.

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

(brief continuation - more soon)

No human who uses the Death note may go to heaven or hell – that is, when they die, humans who used the death note become shinigami.

There is at the body's disposal a variety of sensory receptors, all comprised of axonal nerve endings specialized in one way or another. These range from tactile mechanoreceptors to visual photoreceptors to pain-sensitive nocioceptors; the Death Note works not by means of one but rather a combination of two types of sensory receptors, these being olfactory chemoreceptors together with vascular baroreceptors. While the baroreceptors – which sense variation in blood pressure – dominate here, chemoreceptors exert a subtle but fundamental effect in the sense that, both evolutionarily and neurologically, olfaction is the sense most closely associated with emotional memory.

This is what happens now, and this is what sends Light ever so subtly into a panic when, upon slipping unto the floor, his hand triggers the lever and latch of a secret compartment in his watch, revealing a seemingly innocuous but nevertheless potent slip of paper which, like practically everything else in the universe, is a source of airborne particles. And, like everything else incompletely sealed away, it hasn't entirely prevented the outward diffusion of said particles – particularly not now that its compartment has been opened entirely.

This, of course, is unknown to Light, L, and most likely anyone and everyone who has ever used the Death Note, but the effect is nevertheless real and potent. Light hasn't touched the paper yet, but he stares down at it in curious alarm. Frighteningly, it almost seems right to him that a slip of paper should be so deliberately hidden away in his watch.

"Ryuuzaki," his voice is hoarse and broken as he pulls himself, naked and wet, from inbetween L's arms, "now. Do it now."

L rises to his knees, and before Light's next words come forth, he has the boy's wrists bound together behind his back.

"Listen closely," Light breathes, "It's true that I'm Kira. And Misa Amane is the second Kira. You have to arrest us both. Separately."

He bites his own lips hard enough to draw blood. L doesn't hesitate, and within seconds he has Light bound and cuffed and, as Light asks next,

"And blindfold me so I can't see. This is especially true for Misa. She can see the names."

Naked as the day he was born, L leads Light, cuffed and bound, back to the cell from which he was released only a week or so before.

"Is there anything else you remember?" L asks, having definitely noticed the open watch compartment but not yet sure whether to take it away quite yet.

Light thinks. "Not so much that I remember as what I can figure out."

"Then you don't remember how you killed them?"

Silence. Of course, L does not believe everything Light tells him, but it's more convincing than anything else he's said because it's in accurate accordance with L's previous deductions, and he plans to give it time. Besides, it was hardly conceivable that deliberately asking to be placed under arrest and surveillance without chance to communicate would help Light and Misa execute some secret plan. L is going to think about this.

The last thing Light says before the beginning of a long silence is cryptic and intriguing:

"If you write it four times," Light murmrs, and L thinks he would be looking directly at him were he not blindfolded, "and you write it wrong--then it's rendered useless."

Rem, of course, is very unhappy, and when at last Light's skin comes in direct contact with the slip of paper in his watch, he understands that there is out there a death God very upset with him and very close to bringing him to an even earlier execution than he is about to receive.

It is Misa, however, whose memory is deliberately restored by virtue of this death God, herself, who asks Rem to spare Light.

They are both now facing the death penalty regardless, and head cocked oddly against one arm, L gazes absently into Light's cell, aware of a change that had taken place and not exactly sure what and how.

_(To be continued)_


	8. Chapter 8

_Warning: contains spoiler about L's name_

It can't be helped.

Even while he knows Light is Kira, even while he knows that Light wants his life, L finds himself somehow affected, head resting defenselessly in Light's lap, kneeling silently on the stone floor before him while he sleeps.

He's even gone so far as to dress a cut on Light's thigh one night – his own doing – which sends Light into a startled wake, and, staring uselessly through his blindfold, Light asks,

"What are you doing, Ryuuzaki?"

L swallows quietly and replies,

"I'm dressing your cut, Light-kun,"

And Light stiffens rapidly at the feel of lips against his thigh.

"I'll give you a massage, too," he continues, strangely melancholy, "I'm pretty good at that."

Light gasps, clearly uncomfortable but nevertheless reserved. "Do whatever you want," comes the reply.

There is a tender agony in L's manner and the way his thin fingers handle Light which Kira bears silently, uncomfortably reluctant to acknowledge the affection attempting so painfully to gnaw at his lack of remorse.

While it's true that Light is Kira, there was also in him desire enough to give his own life to save L, and the undeniable sacrifice and determination there haunt L through tremors and terrible dryness in his throat.

While Light is bound, blindfolded, and has, for all intents and purposes, reached a dead end, he is nevertheless somehow the more dignified of the two, because he remains elegantly calm at the mercy of the heartbroken tenderness bestowed upon him, both heart and flesh. He shudders silently when it's finished, raising L's chin upward with a cuffed hand.

"You're all wet," he says with a cold gentleness.

There are tears in L's eyes that Light can't see, and, very quietly, L replies,

"I'm sorry," and Light wipes at his lips with an awkward digit.

He sleeps at Light's side, head in his lap, nearly every night, and when at last he decides to examine the secret watch compartment and the paper within, it is neither Ryuk nor Rem who reveal themselves, but rather Misa Amane, who had taken her own life by deliberate asphyxiation on food.

At the time, Matsuuda, who witnessed this through a monitor, had run in to her defense, but she had deliberately clenched her jaws shut that he may not reach beyond to clear the airway.

As rightful owner of the Death Note, she had taken place as shinigami. Sorrow had taken its toll on her, and, on the verge of collapse in cold sweat, Ryuuzaki stares ahead, just barely recognizing the apparition before him.

"I hope you understand, Lawliet," she says, addressing him by his real name for the first time, "that changes should be made in Light's sentence."

L chokes.

"What's happened to you…? What do you plan to do?"

"I'm prepared to kill you personally. I could do so right now."

There's an icy seriousness to her he has never seen before.

"I pursue this mission at the risk of my life," he replies when at last he can find his voice.

She has never seen him so terrified.

"I continue to support Kira," her voice is like a distant echo of whispers, "and I'm prepared to help him at all costs."

"How—" L murmurs almost inaudibly, "how does he—how do you carry out the murders?"

Silence as she considers.

"I may give you information," she says, and her voice writhes with foreign dignity and intelligence, "in return to repeal his sentence."

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

L considers. He is absolutely not planning to repeal the death sentence of the mass murderer they've been pursuing for months at already too dear a cost. He also does not know whether Misa intends on telling him the truth. But she might.

He remembers that Light mentioned the supernatural.

"What's happened to you? What—are you?" he asks.

"I'm a shinigami. A death Goddess."

There's a creeping emptiness in his gut. Was she always like this? Is this how they did it?

_Death Gods love apples._

_We'll verify our powers by showing each other our death Gods._

He remembers that when the second Kira published a diary, there was something about death Gods, as well as something about—

He looks down at the slip of paper he removed from Light's watch.

Something about notebooks.

_If you write it four times, and you write it wrong, then it's rendered useless_.

"Let me think about it," he says at last, keeping a tight reign on his fear, "can I meet with you again tomorrow?"

She hasn't told him, but she shouldn't be there then. She has to be with the person who has the Death Note now.

"I hope you choose wisely," she replies, and as she vanishes, L drops to the floor in cold sweat, clasping his arms and breathing hard. He is absolutely mortified. Very slowly, he turns his head in Light's direction, wondering if he has really been asleep throughout their conversation.

The murders have started again recently and the members on the task force have begun suspecting a new Kira, but now L is all but certain that the apparition he encountered is involved. He wasn't prepared for something like this.

After staring at the torn piece of notebook paper on his desk for about fourty-five minutes, he tentatively reaches for a pen.

_Kira needs a face and a name_.

_She can see the names_.

Lips pressed tightly together, he stares down intensely, leaning forward as to cover the paper from view of the cameras. And writes his own name – but misspelled.

If he wrote it correctly, would he die of a heart attack?

He writes it three more times, wondering how far in advance he would have to write it in order for him to die.

Nothing happens.

Is it rendered useless now? He doesn't dare try writing his name correctly.

Had he not seen the shinigami, he might think this was a perfectly ordinary piece of paper. No – it must be part of a notebook, as implied in the broadcasted diary.

"I'm sorry, but I decline," he tells Misa when they meet again the following night. She had come to him again in Light's cell.

This won't do.

She threatens to kill him. She threatens to kill everyone on the task force.

"If we release Light, he will definitely kill us all."

He isn't certain of this, but it can't be far from the truth. And he isn't certain she is telling the truth, anyway.

"I will continue killing people until you let him go!"

"That would go against Kira's goal," L replies in a mockery of composure, knowing full well that it is not beyond Kira to kill innocent people were he held back.

"I'll—"

"Shinigami-sama," L's face is completely serious when he stares up at her, voice trembling, "there is nothing you can do that will convince us to release this prisoner. Please stop pursuing—"

"_You love him, don't you?!_"

She screams in frustration, loud enough to awaken Light, who sits up with a loud gasp, staring ahead uselessly through his blindfold.

They both turn their heads in his direction. L is quiet for a long time.

"This isn't about my personal feelings, Shinigami-sama," He replies at last.

"Rem?" Light asks, and Misa leans closer to L, whispering, "he isn't behind this. He saved your life. Kira can't exist without shinigami. He won't give up his mission now, but I will force him out if it saves him."

She will force him out of his mission? After she said she supports Kira and will do anything to promote his goal?

Light is eerily quiet, and L knows he's listening. Misa does too, so she whispers very quietly, "If I help you catch the third Kira, will you trust me?"

_So there is a third Kira after all_.

Deep in thought, L closes the door to the cell on his way out. "Yeah, I will," he says at last.

Misa is nevertheless the very embodiment of agony as she gazes into the cell one last time.

"You should be the one in there," she hisses, "Light is a minor."

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

"You assume that I am not a minor then," L replies without hesitation.

Silence.

"It is true I can see your life span," she replies, "but you are right – I can't see your age."

She can see his life span then. This is an interesting clue.

She volunteers other information as well, all of which L takes with a grain of salt but which he nevertheless keeps in mind.

"We must be careful," he explains to the task force later, "a deliberate request to help us capture the third Kira may well conceal some motive in the means of collaboration."

He isn't at all sure of what shinigami are and aren't capable, but he understands that even now Misa will go to any extent to help Light, who has been unsettlingly silent since his arrest. L truly begins to wonder whether the two communicate in some way and what dangers await the task force upon following a death Goddess in the hunt against the third Kira.

Light murmurs a warning of disapproval against L's hand when he wakes later that night to the unwelcome sensation of being carried.

"_Shhh_…" L quiets him, "this will only take a moment. Please be patient, Yagami-kun."

Light can feel the slender fingers fumbling with his wrists, and then comes the rapid slip of metal as his watch falls to the mattress.

"Ryuuzaki, what are—?"

"Can you tell me about this watch, Light?"

The handcuffs, of course, remain securely in place as L examines and fumbles with the watch behind Light's back, ultimately finding how to open and close the secret compartment. There's a latch and a clasp and also several tiny bolts and screws that come out and in, and one very long, thin metal rod that L slides out with a great deal of curiosity.

_I wonder…_

Light remains silent, and doesn't yield even when, following a quiet apology, L reaches from behind Light's back and closes his fingers on the clasp of his belt.

His breath hitches when the slender fingers delicately unfasten the buckle and reach tentatively for the copper underside

L's wrists move swiftly with gentle patience, eliciting no reaction from Light save the occasional uncomfortable gasp, and L tells him he hopes to be finished soon.

The belt clasp appears entirely ordinary, as do the contents of Light's pockets, as well as—

The fingers run under the blindfold and then down Light's face and against his mouth, protruding inward with careful attention and then—

"Please open, Light-kun."

Light refuses, and, with a genuine attempt at gentleness, L forces past the clasped jaws and presses downward against the molars, eliciting an unintentional whine of desperation from Light, whose eyes are beginning to tear now.

"Shh, just please calm down," L murmurs against the curve of his ear, now pressing upward at the roof of his mouth. When at last comes the warm wetness of tears against the back of L's wrist, he cannot help but wrinkle his brow with regret, gently withdrawing and allowing Light to exhale.

His breaths come slow and echo with the broken tremble of shame when the hands he can't see shift against the protrusions of his vertebrae and the alternating ridges of ribs to the manubrium of the sternum and back, until at last they slide away. His lips press together tightly in defiance of the tears still trailing his face, and L closes his hand around Light's rigid palm in silence.

He understands now that they aren't really tears of shame but rather astonishment.

_L, do you know?_

L turns Light's palms in his hands and runs his fingers along the slender digits, holding them by their tips and inspecting the nails.

And there it is.

Sure enough, there's a fine powder coating the underside of his nails – Light gasps when L brings his fingers to his face and inhales tentatively; perhaps an explosive or some kind of inflammable substance.

_I'm not doing this because I want to._

The shinigami does, in fact, direct the task force toward someone she claims is the third Kira – some guy named Higuchi from the Yotsuba corporation. She mustn't really leave his side, but she nevertheless spends some time with L and the others to explain how they should go about capturing Higuchi. After they have all touched the paper and acknowledged her existence, she tells them about the Death Note and the shinigami eyes – he doesn't have them, she says, so he cannot see the names as she does. When they come, she will stay by his side as to avoid drawing suspicion, and they will find his Death Note as proof.

The fact that they've already begun suspecting Yotsuba gives validity to Misa's claim; but when the task force members arrive as she has directed, one by one they fall astonished to the ground – Mr.Yagami, Aizawa, Mogi – all except L, who rushes in to find Higuchi grasping his desk in a cold sweat. He had just made the eye deal when he saw them coming, but for some reason he could not kill them all; it is now Higuchi against L, who had lost any trust he had in Misa. So will those remaining at the main building when they realize the magnitude of the tragedy that occurred today, and they will definitely not release Light.

Mid-struggle, Higuchi doubles over, staring vacantly as he collapses to the floor; Misa follows, disintegrating to dust and sand and, with her dying breath, whispers,

_Burn it._

Only L remains, frozen in shock and staring down into the ashen remains.

Sure enough, there lies a small black booklet in the dust, and when L picks it up and begins paging through it, he cannot read the writing; a different language. His attention is drawn to a second notebook lying open on the desk – this one is labeled _Death Note_ in English, as Misa had told them earlier, and there really are names inside – written in Japanese.

She really did mean to help them; while he cannot read the first book, L understands that she must have written Higuchi's name there - and this somehow ended her own existence, as well. That is, she gave up her life for this, and knowingly so, he thinks. As he reads through the last several names written in the notebook, he understands that Light had saved him a second time. His name is written there together with the other members' – but the notebook was rendered useless in his case.

_Kira cannot exist without shinigami_.

These awful notebooks must be destroyed.

"Light," L's voice issues forth strained and hoarse. He stands outside the cell, defenseless and unstable, the notebooks hanging limp from his hand.

Light is quiet as usual.

L had read through the notebook labeled _Death Note_ and found many rules written in English inside. One referred specifically to destruction of the booklet and claimed that all who had contacted it would die in such an event. Another stated that someone who used the notebook must write names continuously for thirteen days or face death. The shinigami never told them about these rules, and he shuddered to think the chaos and tragedy they've experienced resulted from meticulously-planned instructions. Whatever for?

Had he destroyed the notebook, would he survive, considering it was rendered useless against him? Who else had touched it? Higuchi was already dead, and so was Misa. If Light had used this notebook, would he die in such an event?

_Burn it_, Misa said before she met her demise; it was inconceivable to think she would endanger Light. She took her very life for him.

And the inflammable powder hidden under Light's nails may well have been a means intended for destroying the notebook were it found on him.

Light, himself, had confessed to being Kira – and he did not die after going far more than thirteen days without using the Death Note. The rules must be at least partly false.

"Light-Kun," L tries again, and now Light raises his chin, and then actually rises from the bench and paces blindly toward the cell bars.

He can't see through the blindfold, but in the cool darkness he hears the hissing flicker of matches, then the echo of blaze followed by the familiar warmth of fire. His face cringes almost in pain, fingers wrapped around the steel bars a safe distance away from L and the burning booklets.

L has burned the torn piece of note, as well, and he looks from the crackling flames toward the cell, searching for any changes in Light, who continues standing eerily quiet on the other side of the bars.

His first words when, fingers trembling, L reaches into the cell and pulls the blindfold down from his eyes, come distant and awkward,

"_Find it before I do_."

Light squints, his eyes unused to the brightness in the room, and he knows something terrible has happened.

Through the bars, he collapses, shivering, against L's form, and he has grown decidedly thinner and weaker. L's long arms come around the frail body and grasp it as it falls; he is still alive.

"What will we do now?" L thinks aloud, _is it over? _Higuchi and Misa are dead, and the Death Notes have been destroyed. Nearly everyone on the task force has died, as well.

Light draws away from L slowly and raises his eyes to his.

_Something terrible has happened_.

"I'm sorry, Light-Kun,"

L says very quietly,

"Police Chief Yagami has died."

_To be continued…_


	11. Chapter 11

Light's fingers stiffen around the cell bars, lips pressed tightly together but otherwise expressionless.

He remembers that _he is Kira_.

_Did I kill my own…?_

"It wasn't you," L says as if reading his mind, and Light looks to him with such panic and desperation that L understands he really is confused.

_Burn it_, Misa had said, and L sees that the destruction of the notebooks is somehow related to the change in Light's motives.

_He won't give up his mission now, but I will force him out if it saves him._

He isn't sure how, but he understands she sacrificed herself for Light.

And, in admitting to being Kira and asking to be arrested, Light sacrificed himself for him.

There is sadness in L's eyes when he speaks, "you should be with your family now."

"Ryuuzaki," Light's voice issues forth soft and brittle, "I'm—" he looks up in astonishment,

"—afraid."

He is shocked and terribly perplexed, having lost control as well, it seems, as his own mind, and he is terrified at what he might do were he released.

"Your mother and sister probably want to be with you right now."

Leaning hard against the bars, Light presses his eyes tightly shut and, teeth clenched, he cries silently; he truly loved his father. He refuses to leave the cell.

L knew they took a risk in following the shinigami's plan. The notebooks have been destroyed, but at what cost? Have they been too rash? How could this have been prevented?

"We were all taking a risk," Light murmurs quietly, "we were all risking our lives. Still…"

L unlocks the cell door and comes inside, sitting down on the mattress.

"What happened…exactly…?" Light asks, turning to face him.

"Sit down, Light-Kun," L replies, his voice quiet and composed as always.

Light hesitates, but fatigue gives way and he joins L.

"There was a third Kira," he explains, "and the good news is that we caught him today."

"Was?"

"That's right," L continues, "he's dead now." Then, after a pause, "We learned a great deal of interesting things."

He considers telling Light about the shinigami, the notebooks, and how he believes Light had saved him, but the younger boy is so overwhelmed that he decides to wait. After all, if Light has truly forgotten the details of his actions as Kira, perhaps it is best not to tell him things that might refresh his memory—not just yet.

"A lot of people died today," L adds quietly.

"Who else has…" Light trails off.

Silence.

"Aizawa…Mogi…" he says almost inaudibly, and then, looking down at Light,

"…Misa…"

Light's eyes go big.

"Did you—"

L shakes his head slowly. "She took her own life." _For you_.

"I don't understand."

He is absolutely overwhelmed and falls limp against the stone wall behind him, thin and exhausted.

"Also," L adds softly, gazing at Light with amused composure, "you saved my life."

Light's eyes open partway, and he gazes at the other boy tiredly.

"Thank you, Light-Kun."

Light stares ahead blankly.

What to do now? Light is Kira—or was Kira—and the real source of the mass murders were the notebooks, which he destroyed. Lives were sacrificed for this. Light saved L's life. Now Light, himself, fears his own actions, and is terrified at the prospect of committing murder unbeknownst to him. He won't leave the cell. He won't talk. He won't eat. L is oddly fascinated by the magnitude of the transformation in Light; he is decidedly different.

"Light-Kun," L says to him several days later from outside the bars, "please try to eat something."

That morning he discovered in Light's cell the tray from the evening before, cold and untouched. It isn't a deliberate attempt at starvation – rather, he is still in shock, perhaps more so at himself really being Kira than about Mr. Yagami's death.

"You have to drink," L explains as he walks into the cell carrying only a glass of water, "please don't make us hook you up to an IV."

Light takes the glass and stares at it intently for a few moments before raising it to his mouth. He drinks slowly and presses the glass to his lips for a long time, deep in thought.

"Thank you," L says with what sounds almost like relief.

"Do you think you can stand up okay?" he continues, and when Light doesn't reply, L takes his hand and begins to help him up slowly.

"Come on," he says with calm reassurance, "why don't we take you out a while. You might want to clean up."

Light doesn't respond. L has tried getting him out of the cell for the past several days and he doesn't really expect it will work this time, either.

"Why don't we try it like this," he says, taking Light's wrist and once again closing the metal link all but forgotten to them both.

Light considers, and, to L's surprise, ultimately agrees to go.

"Let's try that, Ryuuzaki."

_To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12

Light doesn't say much when he follows L out of the room and down the hallway. He walks absently, allowing L to lead.

L knows how Kira kills now, and even through his general state of melancholy this causes him certain undeniable satisfaction. What's more, he understands that Light can't kill right now. Unless there's another element involved, Light cannot kill without the notebook.

L is almost entirely sure that Light cannot kill in this state, either – a transformation really had occurred with the destruction of the books.

He helps Light brush his teeth and wash his face and his hair, he helps him change his clothes and clip his toenails, all the while fully aware of the thought that _Light saved him_, he saved him deliberately. This subtle gesture of unavoidable concern runs through his skin electric with charge and light, and with all the gentleness inherent to his fragile person he tends to the younger boy, who may be thinking a great deal but reveals nothing.

Before they lie down to sleep, L offers him water again, and Light drinks silently and obediently, but no more than half the glass. He does so not so much with compliance as indifference, however, and L speculates he may waste away before long.

He has stopped trying to make conversation with Light; he has stopped urging him to visit his family or to eat. He just lets him be now and turns to face the wall, staring out into the darkness until his eyes become enough accustomed to make out the outline of furniture in the room, and then he sits up in bed and begins to stand when he feels a tug on the sleeve of his cotton shirt.

Startled, he turns his head to meet Light's gaze.

"Don't go," the boy mumbles, thin fingers closed feebly around the fabric.

L does not reply. He stares back in the darkness for a long time.

They don't speak.

When L draws closer, Light does not back away, and he does not resist when the wet pressure of lips comes upon him. Then comes the insistence of palms on L's slender back, urging him closer, and suddenly Light is holding him with every remainder of strength in his thin body.

L remains silent and deep in thought, and even as Light presses feverishly against him he cannot deny that _yes, he does like this_. Light's fingers trail curiously along the edges of L's lips, and L accepts, allowing him inside and allowing him to lick slowly at the corner of his mouth.

Tormented by agony and aggravation, Light moves against him, disturbed and desperate and unmistakably hard, and very gently L pulls away, murmuring that it isn't a good idea and Light is practically emaciated and shouldn't exert himself.

But he can't deny that, somewhere in his mind, he wants this just as badly, and it's all he can do to prevent himself from drowning his own frustration in Light.

"S…sorry," Light murmurs quietly, and indeed he is too exhausted even to slide away from L. Soon he is motionless but for the low hissing of expiration, feathery and moist just above the ripples of cotton at L's shoulder.

L's black eyes are wide and expressionless in the darkness as he wonders what is to be done about the boy in his arms.

There is something Light said earlier that has troubled L ever since—

_Find it before I do_.

Find what? Clearly this means if Light finds whatever it is, there will be danger.

Then this isn't over.

Even if Light no longer remembers these words, he is right in insisting he shouldn't be released.

Behind expressionless black eyes there really is pity now.

L lowers his chin against Light's head. His hair is still moist and falls in a gentle cascade against L's shirt, scattering on the fabric and wetting him. When L brushes his lips against the shell of his ear, Light's fingers tighten against the sheet, weak and tremulous and grasping ever so slightly at the mattress. He has gone so bony and pale that L seriously begins to consider having him treated with an IV.

_Am I allowing my personal gratitude to take precedence over safety?_

While Light was previously awaiting the death penalty, the events that transpired thereafter lead to a change in L's thoughts as he truly came to understand that the root of the problem lay not in Light, himself, but rather in whatever supernatural powers are associated with death gods.

Light's breath issues forth warm and shallow, his eyelashes clinging together in thin, damp bunches—and he's the only friend L has ever had.

_To be continued…_


	13. Chapter 13

Light knows that he was Kira. Not only because both he and L figured this out, but also because, somewhere in his mind, he cannot deny that he sympathizes with Kira. That somewhere in his mind, he cannot deny he feels that Kira was right.

_Kira is justice._

He knows L is sad because he understands this, too.

_L is justice._

There's a metal chain connecting them wrist to wrist.

Sacrificing for the overall good and permanent justice is right.

Deriving intense enjoyment from this sort of sacrifice isn't.

Killing without so much as batting an eyelash isn't.

It is, in fact, true, that without death Gods, Light isn't fully Kira. He doesn't want to kill L. In fact, for some reason he wanted to save L. But even while he doesn't remember being Kira, the knowledge that the doorway to justice has been shut leaves Light feeling eerily hollow.

He understands that things have happened again that he cannot remember.

L would have him shackled in far more intricate a bind had he suspected Light to try anything less mild than the occasional innocent tug attempted late into the night when, half asleep, Light would reveal internal frustration unknown even to himself.

He kicks L clear off the bed, and later shudders internally to discover how readily he expressed agitation. He doesn't like acting as an open book. He doesn't like that L already knows things he doesn't.

At 117 pounds, L falls straight to the floor, bony limbs collapsing in a heap and then rearranging themselves into a sitting position as his big eyes stare across the mattress at his sleeping counterpart.

Disoriented, he climbs back up, murmuring that it hurt and Light shouldn't kick him off like that.

_Find it before I do_.

Light knew something. Did anyone else know? Does the only way to find the meaning behind this involve revealing information to Light?

There's a third notebook.

Light had a notebook and Misa had a notebook, but when Misa became a death Goddess, she gave her notebook to Higuchi. According to the rules written in the Death Note, however, a Death God must have her own notebook as well, that she may not give out to a human.

When L found the two notebooks at Yotsuba, only one contained names written in English; therefore there must be a third notebook other than the two that were destroyed: Light's notebook. He must have hidden it someplace. And if Light were to find it, L realizes, he will transform again.

Why would death Gods bring these notebooks to humans in the first place? Why would they go through the trouble of writing out so many meticulously organized rules in English just so that humans will be able to use them? L decides that humans have, in fact, received Death Notes before, and wonders how often this happened and how many recipients have taken full advantage of their use.

"Light-kun, stop kicking me," L mumbles as he blocks what would have been another kick.

Light grits his teeth in agitation when he discovers he's been at it again and almost wishes he was sleeping in another room, where L couldn't see so easily how annoyed he was with the turn of events. He wouldn't be at all surprised were he to wake the next morning to find himself strapped down and immobilized with an IV attached to one arm.

"Ryuuzaki," he says quietly.

"Hmm?"

"I'd like a glass of water."

L sits up in bed. Light seems to be coming to his senses.

"Well," L yawns, "let's go then."

He takes Light into the kitchen and sits down at the table with him after he's poured himself a glass.

"I encourage you to eat something," L says.

Light looks up from his water.

"Yeah, okay," he replies.

He didn't mean for L to begin fussing over him, but soon the older boy is at the fridge fishing out assorted leftovers and mysteriously unlabeled containers, piling them haphazardly on the counter.

_How old is this stuff?_ Light wonders when he gazes at something that appears to be one mustard container stuffed upside-down into a second mustard container. It really isn't helping what appetite he has, but he forces himself to eat nevertheless.

_What is it that L knows?_

They return to bed without cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and without brushing their teeth. Light falls asleep almost immediately, and wakes up neither during L's exasperation after Light has kicked him again nor later into the night when, with a mixture of aggravation and amusement, L remarks that Light also shouldn't pull his hair.

_To be continued... _


	14. Chapter 14

L's eyes roll upward under his closed eyelids as he thinks, quiet and focused and asleep to all the world.

_What to do. How to find it. _

His long fingers trail absently along the hairless skin of his flat stomach as he thinks, tracing the bony edge of the iliac crest and the tight aponeurosis at the abdominal sheath.

_And what is to be done with Light?_

He will keep him close for the time being. Light, himself, prefers this.

He can't risk taking too long to find the third notebook; depending on where it is, it might fall into someone else's hands. Perhaps it has already. While the notion of death Gods is, to say the least, disturbing to L, he is nevertheless undeniably curious as to how the notebooks work. He has decided, however, with absolute certainty, that they are far too dangerous to keep for observation and definitely too dangerous to test.

Yes: destroying them was the right choice.

His breath comes quiet and moist against the fabric beneath, coyly muffled with so much more consideration than Light has shown him in the torment of frustration.

_Bitterly smiling and bitterly ending,_

_Bitterly rising and bitter descending,_

_If I had the doorway, if I had a shot,_

_How tightly I'd tie your whole world in a knot_;

Delicate lips parted, he exhales with careful silence against the slender length of his forearm. He is almost too tired for it, wading between sleep and dim alertness, wrist moving softly, long lashes batting over closed eyes and quiet, quiet, quiet;

_It's poison, it's death in a box, it's disaster,_

_How fast can you take it, as I can go faster;_

Inaudible inspiration and rigid hold of breath and expiration, and inspiration, and quiet, quiet;

And inaudible inspiration at last to the silent scream gaping tight and helpless before, exhausted, he exhales in melancholy relief, spent and nearly unconscious.

_And what is to be done with Light?_

Light awakens the next morning to find a partly-collapsed pillow barrier dividing the mattress between his side and L's, which topples further when a slight tug at the chain loosens the foundation.

"You were kicking me," L mumbles when Light inquires about it, half asleep and mostly unconscious, "a lot."

"Oh," comes the response, simple and innocent.

"Who or what is Rem?" L asks suddenly, face still turned to the wall, "do you remember anything about that?"

It has occurred to L that when he and the death Goddess spoke in Light's cell, at one point he woke up and called out that single syllable, as if in question.

"Pardon?"

"Rem. Does that word mean anything to you?"

Silence.

L turns to face Light, who is staring back absently and then shakes his head.

"No, I'm sorry."

"I see."

Even though L was entirely terrified at the time, he can still remember that Light called out the word as if calling a person. Rem must be someone, not just something. And the fact that Light cannot remember a name he once knew must mean it is somehow associated with the notebooks L destroyed.

Misa became a shinigami after she died.

Then if Light were to die—

"Ryuuzaki," comes a soft voice from across the pillow barrier,

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to use the restroom."

"Let's go, then."

_To be continued…_


	15. Chapter 15

_(Brief continuation) _

"Other arm, please," L says quietly, reaching for the limb as Light allows it. He holds it under the biceps and bats water from his eyelashes as he runs a sponge over the wet skin, the chain clinking against the tile floor.

"We're gonna have to cut your hair soon," he remarks absently as he brushes the dripping strands away to reach the scapulae.

No reply from Light, who remains quiet and passively allows L to wash his shoulders and back, and when the bony wrists reach for his hands, they stop suddenly.

Before L can gasp at the conclusion he's reached, he finds himself whipped around with a resonant chime of the metal bind and pressed hard against the wall.

"Not Rem," comes Light's voice against the curve of his ear, "Ryuk."

The powder under Light's nails is still there.

It isn't an explosive.

L kicks Light away and instantly has him with his hands behind his back.

This is becoming dangerous.

Water still running, L leads Light out of the shower and back into the room, where he holds him down and binds him immediately.

He returns with a thin wooden pick and a sterile bag and climbs over the struggling form, bending across the wet abdomen to reach for the left hand.

"Please stop moving so much," he says uselessly as he forces the digits pronate and proceeds to sweep under the nails with the pick, "you'll make it hurt more."

"I'll kill you, Ryuuzaki,"

It comes pure and simple, and L continues undistracted,

"You can't, Light-kun."

Light grits his teeth. His chest is still soapy and the mattress is entirely damp beneath him, and L thinks he'll catch a cold if this goes on, so when he finishes collecting the caked powder, he returns with a towel to dry him off.

_This is good_, he thinks as he runs the cloth over Light's abdomen and waist, _Light may know where the third notebook is_.

Better still, if the powder really is part of the third book, then L might be able to use it, himself, without questioning Light at all. This, of course, is far preferable, because L understands that Light would love nothing more than to get his hands on the book before L does.

At least part of Light does.

_Find it before I do_.

The duality is almost heartbreaking, L thinks as he dabs at Light's hair and forehead, Lord only knows what a chaotic mess the boy has become.

"L got Kira. He must have."

Somewhere in England, two teenage boys lean over a thick volume dimly lit by the iridescent glow of a halogen desk lamp.

"Try to focus on the project. It's due in two days."

"D…don't talk down to me…!"

They've each figured out—individually—that L had assigned them this project.

And even though he's away in Japan working on the Kira case, he's undoubtedly going to review their work—

_Because it's important._

_Because this is important. _

_Because this is happening at a crucial time._

_And that's why—_

And that's why they absolutely have to show nothing less than the superior standard of which they are each capable, and why they must, for once, put aside the competition that has dictated their lives to date.

_To be continued…_


	16. Chapter 16

_The last part was short, so here's a bit more - enjoy!_

While no more than a year or so had passed since the last time L visited, it seems to Mello like ages.

L never slept. That's how it seemed, anyway, and when finally, late one night, uninvited and out of bounds, Mello walked in deliberately in a gesture of the most humble and desperate defiance, he all but held his breath to see him asleep.

Lying down, no less.

It was irresistible, and, the living blaze of fire he was, Mello fell to his knees before the mattress, yellow locks cascading across the older boy's lap.

He never forgot, he never forgot the rigid surface of L's bony knuckles, knobs and joints and delicate white skin sliding cool and hard against the tremulous membranes at Mello's lips, it was pure infatuation, devastating and overwhelming and hopelessly alive.

"You should be in bed, Mello-kun."

The slender digits traveled lightly through Mello's cascade of hair with gentle affection, and it was all the boy could do to hold back from grabbing the hand and kissing his fingers.

"J—just tonight."

He was never so humble. Indeed, this was the rare and important exception and, in fact, the very reason for his rigid pride.

He had never wanted anything so much.

He had never admired anyone so much.

His entire life was directed for the very purpose of following in L's footsteps – should he be so lucky.

It was rare that he had L to himself like this. A single word of encouragement, a single reaffirming gesture and Mello was smitten, glowing with confidence and genuine enjoyment, and in his heart he liked to believe that he really did stand apart, that he really will surpass Near in the race to win L's approval.

"Okay then," L replied, "climb in."

Blue eyes opened wide in gratitude as Mello nodded quickly, sliding his delicate limbs onto the bed.

He wasn't going to sleep.

He didn't want to waste this.

He forced himself to stay awake that night, staring at L's sleeping form beside him, and he could care less whether he got in trouble for this later. It would be entirely worth it, and when L was decidedly asleep, Mello leaned in and kissed him, hard and full and desperate, and he thought he never wanted to possess anything so badly.

--

More so than any case before it, the Kira investigation is entirely risky to L and the others. Indeed, he would have died along with police chief Yagami and the rest of the task force had the notebook not been rendered useless against him.

If L were to die, there is to be a successor.

This was a mutual decision between L and Watari, and this was the reason for the murderous competition between potential candidates.

There was no reason, however, for there to be only one successor, and this is why mortal enemies Mello and Near were assigned a project together.

More accurately, the mortal enemy was Mello – Near, to his perpetual aggravation, was unnervingly unaffected and effortlessly ahead. For Mello, this went beyond the need to follow L and into the very desire to be unique to him: to follow through on the mutual understanding and unspoken connection he so passionately believed they could achieve.

L was everything he wanted to become and everything that, with jealous possession, he desperately wished to have.

Dry and cerebral, Near did not succumb to the chaotic force of the living, breathing combustion that was Mello, and instead pinned him down with viciously silent, poignant words at every advance.

_L is mine_, the older boy would grit his teeth and think, and while truly, he has no idea as to the goings-on of the secret investigation, he finds himself almost envious of Kira for having attention from L that he, himself, never had.

_To be continued... _


	17. Chapter 17

L is incredible, Mello knows this—far be it from him to need their help. But, God! What Mello would do for the opportunity to give help.

At fourteen, he is deceptively powerful, comprised slender and delicate, all skin and bones. He is intense and serious and admirably controlled considering the world exploding within him.  
_  
Come the lightning, crackle fire, this world melts for circumstance._

He nevertheless does not give in to distraction during work, and remains remarkably focused throughout.

Almost.

Near is maddeningly composed, white and blank and without emotion almost as a challenging taunt laced with unspoken arrogance.

Mello used to want to hit him, and Mello used to hit him, and he used to make him promise and swear that he won't say a thing, but it made things worse because it was never satisfying and, by default, it left Near triumphant and righteous.

So then Mello took to hitting everything else, walls and pillows and ultimately his friend Matt, who, far from protesting, seemed strangely grateful for the attention so seldom bestowed on him.

"Mello, I—"

"Don't."

It wasn't right, he knew, and he forced himself to hold back, and all it did was make him more enraged with frustration, and that's how he lived.

"This isn't right."

"I don't mind."

"I have to study now."

"But—"

"And you have to study, too."

--

Light watches L from the bed, warm and dry and covered but still bound and without hope of release anytime soon.

There on the desk is the sterile bag containing disintegrated remains of a page from the third book. Light doesn't fully understand this, but he understands and reasons enough to know that he must somehow get to the powder before L touches it.

On the other side of the desk is a stack of papers in a neatly prepared file, something of undoubted importance as L tends to it in the midst of his investigation of the extract.

"Ryuuzaki," comes the word in the softest and most composed of voices, "I want to see my family."

At the desk, the older boy stops working and he seems deep in thought as he turns his face upward along the wall to the front,

"I'm sorry, Light-kun, but it's too dangerous right now."

"I see," it comes calm and obedient.

_What are you trying to do, Yagami? _

Up until now, Light was bound almost entirely by choice. Without doubt and whether or not he fully understands this, he is now attempting to prevent L from getting to the book before him.

How does this work, L wonders, will he merely need to touch it? This can't be enough, because ongoing cutaneous contact did not seem to awaken Light.

Indeed, as a source of particular gradient alone, the powder activates only olfaction without the full vascular effect that requires the entire book. That is, it can be used merely as an activator of emotional memory and not a means of possessing the book or perceiving the works with which it is associated.

So even when L touches and even samples it, it does nothing.

_I might need Light then_, he muses, keeping this in mind as a last resort.

With his free hand, he reaches for the file on the other side of the desk, big eyes trained with quiet focus as he reads.

They work well together after all. But it isn't without its price.

The real reason behind this mess isn't Light or Higuchi or Misa. The root of the problem lies in the fact that, for whatever reason and by whatever means, instruments of unparalleled chaos and destruction were introduced into the population.

Is there truly a way, L wonders, to ascertain that this sort of thing is put to a halt?

There is, reads the report, assuming that rules so meticulously planned and painstakingly inscribed were formulated by someone, for some reason.

--

Absent blue eyes gaze up vacuously, the alternating sequence of light and shadow from the ceiling fan reflecting motion in their glossy surface, and, right arm tucked behind his head, Mello lies tense and still.

_I hope he thinks it's good. _

"You're worried about the project."

"I'm not worried."

"You're all tense."

"I—shut up."

Soft red locks sweep across his narrow waist, light and feathery, and Mello is too uptight to care—which is why, to Matt's absolute appreciation, he is allowed this tonight.

"Can I take this off?"

"Whatever."

"Cool."

_  
To be continued..._


	18. Chapter 18

"Tell me, then. What do you make of this?"

L has chosen both Near and Mello as his successors. Despite competition all but bred into them by virtue of the race for the position, they have managed to work impressively well together on the project he gave them.

He didn't tell them everything; they deduced a great deal on their own.

He made it clear that they are to share the role and that if something were to happen to one, the other would lose his place, as well; this is proof, Mello thinks, that he doesn't trust them entirely to work together throughout.

"The purpose of these notebooks," Near says quietly, "is to allow for new shinigami to come about."

L thought of this, as well.

"But the reason that shinigami exist – who knows."

"So there is a third book," Mello interjects, "and if we were to find it—wherever it is—that might be a way to talk to a shinigami."

He likes that he managed to impress L. He likes that L specifically asked them to come to Japan to meet with him. That he asked their opinion on the Kira matter, no less.

He doesn't like that he has to share the position with Near. It almost makes the position as L's successor somewhat of a punishment – having to work with Near for the rest of his life.

"Come with me, please," L says as he unfolds his long legs from his chair and steps down to the floor, and the boys follow.

_Where are we going?_ Mello thinks to ask, but he already knows.

It's the control room, the one with all the television monitors, and L directs their attention to one.

Near remains expressionless, but Mello's eyes go big.

"This is Kira," L says quietly.

Light is almost angelic as he sleeps, all but oblivious to the shackles securing him in place, freshly washed hair scattering across the sheets beneath.

_This is Kira_, Mello thinks in astonishment, _he's got Kira right there in that room. He's not killing him because he needs him to find the third notebook_.

"Kira is wet," he finds himself murmuring, and, suddenly charged with strange envy, he also finds that he loathes him from the very bottom of his heart.

"He doesn't remember everything," L says, and Near nods, "this is because he relinquished ownership of the notebook—but he kept parts."

"That's right," L replies, "there was a small note in his watch that belonged to one of the books and powder under his nails that is probably from the third notebook."

"It's specifically from the third one because he mentioned a name that probably belongs to a death god—and not the death god you saw before," says Near, and, unbeknownst to himself, Mello grits his teeth.

"Two names," comes L's voice, "Rem and Ryuk. Specificlaly, _not Rem; Ryuk._"

"Three notebooks, three names," says Mello, but L comments that it isn't quite that simple. Misa, he remembers, had two notebooks of her own: one that she had while she was alive, plus a second one she gained upon becoming a death Goddess.

"But if it was under his nails up until now, then he was touching it. Then how is it that he doesn't remember everything?"

"Maybe he does," L replies, "or maybe it's not concentrated enough. Maybe it was mixed with something else; either way, he remembers some things."

And Light – oh, Light is not innocent. Of course, he doesn't like being bound and at the mercy of L and whoever else might be watching through the cameras that undoubtedly jut out from every crevice in the foundation.

L has found the powder; L knows it's from the third book. He's going to ask Light to help him find it, but even after he does, Light can't use the notebook to kill L. He doesn't want to; what he wants is to get the notebook for himself and make L forget.

That is, to give the notebook to someone else.

_This isn't about my personal feelings_, he remembers hearing someplace in the forgotten passageways of his mind, and indeed, it isn't; he must do this for the sake of justice.

"He's going down so fast," Mello hisses, and L raises his eyebrows. "Oh, we're not going to kill him."

"Yeah, I know, I mean—I mean _after_ we destroy the third book."

"You seem quite intent on the matter, Mello-Kun."

Mello blushes anxiously. "W—what do you mean? You weren't going to kill him?"

L's black eyes roll up and to the left and suddenly he seems deep in thought. "It's like Mello said," he replies, "the real issue lies in the notebooks. What we need to do is to destroy them and make him forget."

And all it takes to push Mello just right over the top is a smug little smile from Near following L's comment.

_To be continued…_


	19. Chapter 19

And to make matters worse, L sleeps with Kira.

Like, really _sleeps _with him, in the full sense of the word. There's a room for Near and Mello, together, as if, almost mocking, L is testing to see just how well the two can tolerate one another, and when he allows them to retire for the night, he leaves for Kira's room. The one where they saw him sleeping earlier.

With all the cameras still on.

This, Mello decides, goes far beyond merely allowing him to live. L is gentle with Light, affectionate almost, and even though, alert as ever, he doesn't release the younger boy or let him out of his sight, when he removes the iron shackle, he binds him to himself, instead.

It's repulsive.

"Why are you watching that if it only makes you mad?" Near murmurs matter-of-factly as he walks past.

"I—I don't care! What business is it of yours, anyway…?!"

Near doesn't need to reply; he's made his point, and, besides, he all but comes equipped with the most infuriating of smiles, charged so much with sarcasm and ridicule that at times it seemed to Mello he's practically begging to be punched.

And then there's the monitor screen.

Why. What. How. How can something like this be possible? Is this simply because Mello doesn't understand well enough what L has figured out? Why are _they_ friends? Is he that far impressed by Light?

He can't show L how far affected he's become. He can't lose his focus; he hasn't come this far just to become emotionally involved. He's going to get that notebook, himself.

No, he shouldn't do anything rash; he knows better than to try something L has undoubtedly thought of already and has clearly decided against.

L has conducted a full search of Light's clothing and person, which has produced only this extract. While there were notes and pieces here and there, there were no other traces belonging _specifically to the third book_.

And apparently, the extract alone isn't enough to allow any person to see a death God—it doesn't even seem to be enough to fully restore Light's own memory.

Later still into the night, Light awakens to find his mouth covered by Mello's hand. Entirely calm, he says nothing, and merely raises an eyebrow, eyes rolling in the boy's general direction.

"Enough of this bullshit," Mello whispers, "you're gonna tell me what you know."

There's a gun trained on the side of Light's head, that, apparently, Mello has managed to procure, and he's also managed to pick the lock on the handcuffs binding the two.

Polite and compliant, Light nods his head and raises his hands in surrender as the younger boy leads him out of the room.

Light knows that Mello isn't going to kill him. Although they haven't been formally introduced, Light knows he needs him, they all do. And also, he's not going to tell them where it is—and there's nothing any of them can do about it.

In fact, Light is smiling behind Mello's palm, because at last he's been released.

When the hand comes off, seductive as ever, he grins coyly, "you must be working with us to get the third book," he says, rubbing at the back of his wrist where the cuff had been. "You must know that I'm Kira, then."

Mello's eyes widen, gun still at full aim.

"And you must know I'm completely innocuous without the notebook."

"I'll do the talking," Mello hisses, and suddenly, eyes narrowing, he glares directly at Light,

"You _know_ where it is."

Light is actually smiling, and in the calmest of voices, replies, "I can completely understand why you would think so."

He's almost as aggravating as Near.

No—he's even more aggravating than Near.

"I'm sure Ryuuzaki has explained to you that I'm working together with you toward this goal."

The mention of L all but infuriates Mello, who, almost unconsciously, lashes at the older boy and slams him against the wall.

"If you think L is stupid enough," Mello whispers in anger, "to believe that you're working _with_ him on _anything_, then you have another thing coming!"

"Please calm down," Light whispers, fascinatingly composed and pleasant, "I wholly regret that I haven't got anything to tell you that you don't already know. I don't expect you to trust me, but think of Ryuuzaki's reaction to this. If truly you suspect me, shouldn't you have me bound again?"

Such an insult.

_L is mine_.

"I'm not buying that for a _second_," Mello replies, and down come his hands on Light's wrists, slamming him against the hard floor.

_To be continued…_


	20. Chapter 20

_You win_, Light's smile, serene and cordial, seems to say, _but be sure this is really what you want._

And Mello _will _win, and it's only a matter of time before he is the first of them to speak with the shinigami, but for the time being, he isn't guided by reason alone.

It isn't important that L will see this; it isn't important that Near and everyone else will see this, as well; Mello knows what he's doing and this is the way he does things.

But it is nevertheless entirely by choice that Light allows it, and one might feel compelled to think that Light knows neither affection nor real physical drive but only strategy if not for the unmistakable passion all-consuming to possess and conquer.

Mello shows him neither the careful gentleness that L showed Light nor the honest surrender that Mello had shown L, himself, in every gesture and every regard; instead, he takes him cruelly, with tormented deliberation and burning jealousy and threats, until for a very brief moment, Light actually begins to wonder if he has at all underestimated his rival. No, he laughs internally, this was to be expected.

He even pretends to be astonished, defeated, afraid, long eyelashes flickering shut against the clavicular ridge protruding under deceptively soft skin, expiration desperate and moist against the rhythmic fall of yellow hair, and _please don't_ and _please stop_ and _it hurts_, and then, like the vicious swing of an invisible iron mace,

_Ryuuzaki…!_

Oh, now he's done it.

L is seldom mistaken, and L was not mistaken when he chose both Near _and_ Mello to work with and after him. What follows is neither reprimand nor surprise, but only curious amusement and even the suggestive hint of a smile as he gazes at the two from across the room.

In just seconds Mello has a gun trained against Light, jaws clenched and eyes squinting, left hand tightly pressed to his neck.

_You're a lying little bastard, Kira_, Mello hisses, _and I can see through this just as well as he can_.

"Please," Light squints, fingers clawing at the palm pressed hard to his neck, "please let go."

And ultimately Mello does, because, after all, they do need him, and with an impressive display of inner strength, he releases Light and allows him to return to bed.

_Let this be a warning to you, Kira, and foreshadowing of things far worse still to come._

He is deep in thought as he walks back to his own bedroom, clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled, and stops before he reaches the entrance because L calls to him.

He looks up from behind rogue strands of hair, no longer glowing with fury but nevertheless shaken still, and he says nothing when the slender digits of L's hand travel through those strands to smooth them, and then warm dark eyes inspect him slowly, and at last the fire quiets and the rage grows dim.

"Does Mello want to stay with me tonight?"

And, like so many years ago, they travel down the hallway together, Mello's hand twined around the bony length of L's index finger.

_To be continued…_

--

"I see Mello has found a gun," comes L's quiet voice, low and calm against the sheet beneath.

"He knows where it is. I'm sure of it."

L nods quietly.

"I think you're right. But he didn't know all along."

"I—I understand." And then, after a moment of thought, Mello's eyes go big. "He's afraid of nothing. He doesn't tell anything."

"I think you might be right about this too, Mello-kun. He's going after this with complete detachment from his own feelings."

"You're wrong. These _are_ his feelings. This is satisfaction."

"I wonder to what extent that's true."

"He may have saved your life," Mello's voice rings at last with irritation, "but this isn't simply about—"

"Yes," an exhalation ghosting against the folded knuckles of L's white hand, "not simply about my drive to win or his drive to win—or about friendship."

And then with a little smile, he adds, "Mello says this, but this isn't what Mello believes."

"W—what—"

"Would you say you pursue this case driven first and foremost by a sense of justice?"

_He got me_.

_Of course he got me_.

L doesn't wait for his reply. "Perhaps we are all driven at least in part by a personal sense of competition."

"L," Mello's voice is strained and almost inaudible, "I don't think there's any friendship there."

"Perhaps not. But perhaps what's at play, instead, is incredible self-control."

Defeated, Mello curls in anger, straining very hard not to show his temper and jealousy to L, who sees them anyway.

He tilts Mello's chin up with a gentle finger and inspects his face in the dark.

"Where did you put the gun, Mello-kun?"

"S…sorry," the boy mumbles with awkward hesitation, and then, lifting the blanket back, he pulls it away from the hook at his belt. He hands it to L carefully, and the older boy takes it and inspects it slowly, then reaches for a drawer at the dresser beside the bed.

"You know that there are cameras in every room."

Mello nods. "It wasn't supposed to be a secret."

L thinks about this. It seems that Mello does know how to handle a weapon, and the position does, after all, involve danger and the need for protection.

Perhaps it isn't a bad idea for him to have a weapon of his own; L had chosen him because he trusts his judgment.

When he returns to bed, he sees Mello curled away, blonde locks falling softly over the delicate lines of his shoulders and narrow back, and he is all suppressed anger and humiliation, looking away deliberately to hold back from lashing out again.

Very slowly, L leans closer and presses his lips to the tremulous skin just behind his ear.

"Please try to get some sleep; we've been up very late and we need to be alert tomorrow."

But Mello spends the rest of the night frozen rigid, eyes fully open and staring out into the dark room without daring to turn around.

_ Will continue this soon. I don't usually leave many notes, but this is important to me. We are presently working on the translation for the Death Note yaoi doujin game Bound Prince. This is a very explicit game and it's very hard to find people who understand Japanese and are willing to help with the yaoi parts. If you or anyone you know can help or if you would like to see the translation so far, please message me._


	21. Chapter 21

"Light-kun didn't have a pleasant encounter with Mello," L says quietly as he dabs at a scratch on Light's cheek with gauze.

Light says nothing. His eyes dart to the corner of the room, where they remain fixed on nothing in particular, but L can see his lips tightening in pain at the feel of ethanol against the cut.

"I'm sorry," L says, "I'm almost finished."

Almost automatically, Light presents his wrists to L, turning them supine that L may place the binds in place, and L Locks them together with a quiet word of thanks.

He gazes at Light from under his thick, dark hair, at the slender neck and long eyelashes, and then reaches for a vial which he unscrews with one quick motion. He dabs the cotton end of a sterile swab into the liquid and then reaches for Light's face.

Light allows it, but his eyes dart toward L immediately, and his silence is telling enough.

_He knows_.

_Let's see how long until you talk_, L thinks, screwing the cap back on the vial and inserting it back into the kit.

Light allows him to place a small bandage over the cut, and he knows that the scratch isn't very bad at all and that it isn't bleeding anymore, but that he placed it there to keep the solution from leaking out.

_Just what are you trying to do, L?_

"You must be bored, Light-kun," L says as he leads the younger boy back into the bedroom and sits down at the desk, "I'm sorry. But you understand why we can't have you speaking with anyone on the outside just yet."

Light nods.

"Is Light-Kun hungry?"

"No, thank you."

"You should eat something. You've become very thin."

"Okay."

L asks Watari to bring them sandwiches for lunch, and, because he knows L's eyes are on him, Light begins eating very slowly, and L joins him on the bed.

"Do you like it? It's salmon."

"Yeah."

"Here," L says quietly and reaches for his pocket. He pulls out the keys to the cuffs and motions for Light to present his hands to him. He then unlocks the cuff from one hand, allowing the second to dangle from Light's wrist.

"Is that better?"

Light nods.

"Thank you."

L reaches with his thumb and brushes a smudge of cream cheese away from Light's lip.

"I wish this were over too," he says quietly, "so that we could eat lunch like this without worrying."

Light says nothing as he watches L withdraw his hand and then put his thumb to his lips and lick at it.

Does Light remember anything new? Is there any kind of change? Either way, he says nothing and reveals nothing, and L begins to wonder whether Light's frame of mind has reverted back from duality to—

To Kira?

It's heartbreaking.

L watches Light take another bite of his sandwich and stare off into some fixed point on the wall as he chews, and then he puts his sandwich down and stares at the younger boy.

Light notices this as well and turns to look at L, silent and unmoving.

Very slowly, L puts his sandwich down on the tray and turns toward Light, and then thin, white fingers reach toward him and brush the hair away from his neck, and, very gently, L kisses the skin behind his ear.

Light's eyelashes flutter and while he remains silent, L can feel the muscles go rigid under his skin and he can hear the very soft intake of breath, and he lowers Light backward onto the mattress and reaches delicately for the buttons on his shirt.

"Ryuzaki…" Light says very quietly and his hands slide across the bony shoulders and on to L's back, the heavy metal cuff trailing after.

"Here," L says and moves backward, finally unlocking and removing the cuffs, and then he leans down to place them on the floor beside the bed and returns to Light. The younger boy watches as L finishes unbuttoning his shirt and then draws the folds away from his chest.

It's covered with little scratch marks from the night before, and L leans down to kiss the marks, but still Light says nothing.

"Does it hurt?" L asks, and Light replies,

"Yes…"

But he doesn't ask him to stop, and he actually presses L to him ever so gently, and L understands that this is something Light actually wants.

He gazes up at Light from his chest and asks whether hewould like him to go on, and Light nods, his eyes glistening with strange desperation.

It really has been a very long time for them.

"Okay," L replies, and they both understand that it is up to Light to tell him when it becomes too much.

Out in the office, Mello's long fingers close around the glass vial, and he lifts it up to eye level.

"L's gonna know that you're messing with that,"

comes Near's quiet voice, and Mello is somehow glad that he doesn't have the gun on him, because he doesn't know if he could hold back from using it right then.

He ignores Near and continues inspecting the vial; the liquid inside isn't really a solution but rather some kind of mixture of water and something else, and Mello thinks he knows what. He unscrews the cap and watches as stray liquid drips from the cover and into the glass, and, like the annoying little brat he is, Near lowers his eyelids and says something about how Mello should really put it down.

"Yeah?" Mello replies, and then stares at the cap for a few moments before, quite deliberately, he takes the thing to his lips. Staring directly at Near, he reaches out with his tongue and runs it slowly against the underside of the cap and then licks his lips.

"You fool. You don't even know what's in there."

"Oh, I think I know, all right," comes the reply, and, smiling wickedly, he closes the vial again.

_To be continued..._


End file.
